blood and dirt: finally
by sexkarma
Summary: <html><head></head>There have been many times where they could have let go. They might die tomorrow, so Bella is taking every precaution necessary. A shamelessly smutty Eclipse missing scene.</html>


**A/N: This is shameless smut. No, really. My brain couldn't handle the yawn fest that was the Eclipse movie and this is what happened. As a result, the first few lines are from/inspired by a particular scene in the movie.**

**I wouldn't say it's **_**totally**_** OOC, but Edward is less puritanical and Bella is less delicate flower. Yay. I don't own anything about this. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks for looking.**

It's before the battle. Even if they survive this, it won't be the last one. She knows. She's not stupid, despite what everyone else seems to think.

Bella also knows what she wants.

"You're going overboard." Blood drips down her finger and she watches it fall to the grass, and she's not nauseated, she can't be- not when tomorrow she's going to have to mean it. If all she's good for is distraction, she's going to be a damn good one, to hell with whatever Edward thinks about it.

"It doesn't bother you?" she asks, waving her finger a little, feeling punchy. Edward's eyes darken but he shakes his head with a little smile.

"Since when?"

"Since I thought you were dead for 24 hours."

"Show me," she says, and there are many reasons. She needs to know if he'll be driven to distraction tomorrow, when her attack will be aimed at Victoria. But … she also likes his dark eyes and the way he was the other night, the gravelly way he said _"I want to"_. He raises an eyebrow in challenge and she sighs a little. So many of their conversations have so few words. She raises her hand and smears her bloodied finger on his lip.

Suddenly he growls and the sound makes Bella feel like her stomach has dropped out of her body entirely. She's heard it, but not directed at her. His grip is almost painful on her hand and he's not breathing. His now-black eyes demand to know what she was thinking, what she could have possibly been thinking, and he pushes her hand away from him like she smacked him.

He's afraid he's scared her until he smells her familiar arousal. He is trembling, and he watches her, not a foot away from him and not scared, as he licks his lips clean of her blood- her blood, which he'd resisted for so long, precisely because of this, because it sings to him-

He's angry. So angry. Because it is divinity embodied, lust and love and sustenance in a sweet heady floral and he wishes he could savor it. His eyes, staring at her, are wild as he rubs some blood of the corner of his mouth with a thumb, sucking it clean, and it's all gone. Burning up on his tongue, cutting through the burn in his throat.

They've only been standing there for thirty seconds, but everything has changed.

_Fuck_.

She's looking up at him, coynervoushopeful smile and soaked panties and he just can't how much is one man vampire immortal denizen of hell supposed to take?

She takes her finger and rubs it on her own lips then, and there's less blood but _yes. _Before he knows what he's doing, before she can register the movement with her weak human eyes, she's up against the massive cedar three yards away and he's sucking and licking at her lips. He growls again, and again, and she's gasping and moaning. His fingers around her shoulders will leave perfect finger mark bruises that they'll discover tomorrow (if they're alive)

God, if they're alive. He moans into her mouth, his tongue slipping past her lips now to taste her and he wonders why he's never slipped before now, god, her mouth and her blood it's so

He's hard, so hard. And she, so soft, when he presses right there she hisses and gasps. Her gasps sound like crying but she's really thinking _oh my god why didn't I think of this before_, even though she knows that it wouldn't have worked the same way. He's so intense, in everything he does, and this is no different. He is attacking her body with a gentle ferocity that says he's forgotten about the mild Catholic guilt that kept him from feeling her skin. His hand travels down her body and grips her ass, and her head spins, he's treating her like he actually wants it, like he notices her body, its curves and dips. His hand on her ass lifts her easily and she wraps her legs around his waist and oh

"God, please," she chokes out, because she can feel him hard against the seam of her jeans, fuck it's so good, and he's probably going to stop any second. She rocks against him desperately, begging with her mouth and body for this not to stop.

They're drowning. All of this tension, kept at bay, she should have known one of them would die for it (maybe it's better than dying tomorrow because of some crazy bitch vampire's vendetta, really, an entire army Victoria?).

"Please please," she says again, rocking harder, pulling at his hair. He would have passed out had he been human, he'd never felt such- hands clawing at each other, blood stained lips, these jeans had to go and he only barely has the presence of mind not to rip them, just shoves them down awkwardly and then she might actually be crying when he lifts her back up and slips his fingers below the waistband of her panties.

"Yes, please," she nods and her hips do it for him, his fingers sliding through her soft hair and soft skin and wet, so wet, her body offers no resistance to his first searching finger. Or his second. His third, however, makes her keen out in pleasure. "God, your thumb, just, yes, right there," he rubs on the little nub, he knows how this works mechanically. She is rocking on his hand now, and it's maybe the sexiest thing he's ever seen. He wants it to be his cock. He's never wanted anything more.

"Fuck, I want you," he all but growls and she cries out, the soft skin inside of her fluttering around his fingers. His mouth goes slack and so does her neck, her head banging lightly against the back of the tree. He gently pulls his fingers out and she moans again, a throaty, satisfied moan. Her eyes slip shut and he slips his fingers in his mouth. She tastes- oh. Bliss, nothing else, he wants

"Can I? Bella," he moans, kissing at her neck, wanting to bite her if it meant that this was forever that they could be like this always. Her moan sounds a lot like 'yes' so he rips her panties off (she won't need them like she needs the jeans, and they're ruined now anyway).

"Tell me," he grinds out. "If it hurts."

"So good," she moans in response, her head lolling to the side.

"Look at me, Bella." A command. She does. His eyes are black, thirsty, but blood is the farthest thing from his thoughts. Who knew he was capable of that? She smiles a little, somehow both lazy and sated and freakishly desperate to feel him inside of her, finally.

The small of her back trickles blood from the rough bark of the tree, and he swears, pulling away a bit. This was why they hadn't- but- it wasn't that bad, she didn't seem to notice, right? He'd tell himself anything. His fine control had snapped and he was for once grateful that he'd seen so much sex in his head, maybe he wouldn't fuck it up. _Thanks, Rosalie. Emmett. _

"No," she whined as he moved away from her, "nonononono."

Before she could finish, he was laying on the ground, holding her upright, straddling his thighs. She laughed breathlessly. "You can control it, this way," he explains, and feels his thigh getting wet. Since she's gotten hers she explores a little, wrapping her hand around him, and her fingers barely meet. Her mouth waters. He's not too long but thick, oh he's

Hissing, Edward's eyes close. "Look at me, Edward," Bella half-moans. His hands flex on her back, and she feels the cuts from the bark ooze blood onto his fingers. She briefly thinks this is a lot—kinkier? – than she thought their first time would be. She'd gotten used to the idea of virginal bridal lingerie, a fancy hotel room with lots of flowers and candles, maybe a bath. Yeah. But this. Outdoors, the middle of the day. Covered in blood, their arousal, a war twelve hours away.

This. It's perfect. She strokes him twice before raking her nails down his length. He can take it much better than a human could, and in fact groans and swallows hard in response. She explores more, admiring the light dusting of hair on the tops of his thighs, god, she'd never seen so much of his skin. She leans down to taste it, her hair brushing his cock and she licks and sucks. Idly she wonders if she'll still get hickeys when she's a vampire.

Edward's fingers are inches into the ground now to keep from grabbing her too hard, but god, it's like she doesn't understand, "I need you, please," he manages, his voice gruff. He feels and sees her hot blush as it travels up her body. "Take your shirt off." The buttons are popped off of his, and he doesn't remember how that came to be. She complies almost immediately, and fuck, she's not wearing a bra (she barely needs to). Her nipples are hard in the cool air, a perfect pink against creamy skin. It's too much. She's too much. "I love you, so beautiful, thank you," he's murmuring.

Then she's scooted up, grasping him to try to guide him. He groans throatily when the head of his cock pushes into her, hot, god it's hot, soft and wet. She grunts and lifts up again. "What? Why?" his brain has stopped functioning. Why did she stop?

"Your fingers, stretch- uh- you're too big, I-" He lifts himself on an elbow to better watch, licking his lips in anticipation. He wipes off his dirt-caked fingers the best he can but the two of them are already so dirty. She's right, it's snug with just three of his fingers, so he works them in and out for a few moments until she's riding his fingers again in earnest, and Christ is it sexy, her small breasts bouncing at the same rhythm of her hair, which falls over her shoulders as her eyes close.

"You- are you going to come again?" he asks, breathlessly, though he knows she is. A blush is blooming on her chest and he rubs at her clit like she showed him last time.

She nods frantically, almost comically. He presses down hard on her clit and she cries out again, his name on her lips. Before her orgasm subsides she's lowering herself on to him and he bites his lip savagely to keep from coming right there. She moans something that sounds like _thick_ and he has to think of Emmett, baseball, something, anything to keep it together.

"Touch me," she sighs, looking at his fingers which are in the ground again. Thoughtlessly he obeys, thumbing a nipple and watching in fascination as it hardened more. Dirty handprints are all over her now, on her thighs, hips, and it makes him thirsty. She's sitting still, waiting to adjust, and he's finally gathered himself when she starts moving over him, a sort of rock-bounce motion.

He clenches his eyes shut, clenches his hands on her hips as they gain speed. She's gasping again and if she fucking comes again it will be the end of him. He's going to end soon either way so he sits up a little more, attaching his mouth to her nipple, rolling it over his tongue. She moans, high-pitched, and he gives the other the same treatment until her hips are moving erratically.

He's almost relieved that she's no more graceful during sex than she is while walking.

Grasping her hips, he took control, bouncing her on his cock two, three times before groaning and coming almost violently.

"I can't- fuck," she said, slumping over him, sweaty and dirty and a little bloody. "So good, I didn't know-"

His cock, though tired, twitches at her (dirty) words and her wiggling. "Didn't know what?"

"That you wanted me – the way I wanted you." She pauses. "That's how I want you. All the time."

He growled, grinning, and rolled them over so she was caught in a cage of his limbs, and his lightness was absurd considering the day and the darkening clouds overhead, but when one is a abstinent for as long as he... "Don't ask for such things unless you can handle them."

Her eyes rolled back into her head. Maybe she couldn't.


End file.
